Sights
I saw a singer singing to a crowd,-
Singing of laughing life,- and all the while
He sang in tones so shrilly loud,
Not one man had a smile.
I saw a fiddler from a broken plain
Playing his weeping fiddle,- sweet and clear.
He sang of Death and Cries and Pain,-
But no one shed a tear.
I saw a whistling soldier, still and wan,
Firing his rifle from a fearful place,-
But all the time a dying man
Looked long upon his face.
poem by Leon Gellert
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Day Of The Locusts
Oh, the benches were stained with tears and perspiration,
The birdies were flying from tree to tree.
There was little to say, there was no conversation
As I stepped to the stage to pick up my degree.
And the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I glanced into the chamber where the judges were talking,
Darkness was everywhere, it smelled like a tomb.
I was ready to leave, I was already walkin,
But the next time I looked there was light in the room.
And the locusts sang, yeah, it give me a chill,
Oh, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang their high whining trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
Outside of the gates the trucks were unloadin,
The weather was hot, a-nearly 90 degrees.
The man standin next to me, his head was exploding,
Well, I was prayin the pieces wouldnt fall on me.
Yeah, the locusts sang off in the distance,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
Oh, the locusts sang off in the distance,
And the locusts sang and they were singing for me.
I put down my robe, picked up my diploma,
Took hold of my sweetheart and away we did drive,
Straight for the hills, the black hills of dakota,
Sure was glad to get out of there alive.
And the locusts sang, well, it give me a chill,
Yeah, the locusts sang such a sweet melody.
And the locusts sang with a high whinin trill,
Yeah, the locusts sang and they was singing for me,
Singing for me, well, singing for me.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Fiddle And The Crowd
WHEN the day was at its middle,
Tired of limb and slow of pace,
Came a fiddler with his fiddle
To a crowded market place;
Lying, cheating, boasting, bragging,
Men and women walked together;
Heads were nodding, tongues were wagging,
Talk there was of trade and weather,
Talk there was of man's enslavement
To the tyrants, Toil and Worry;
Yet the fiddle on the pavement
Minding not the noise and hurry,
Singing low and singing loud —
Spoke its message to the crowd.
Said the fiddle —
'Pause and listen;
Can't you hear the waters running
Down the mossy mountain valleys?
Don't you see the lyre-bird sunning
Glossy plumes in fronded alleys?
Life is glory, life is glamour!'
Said the fiddle
In the middle
Of the tumult and the clamour.
Though unheeded seemed the fiddle,
Bidding each and all rejoice,
When the day was at its middle —
Yet beneath its magic voice,
Laughing, sobbing, teasing, fretting,
Men and women met together,
Smiled to find themselves forgetting
Troublous thoughts of trade and weather;
One bethought him of a cavern
Cool and sweet with running water,
And another of a tavern
And a tavern-keeper's daughter —
Ale to drink and lips to kiss —
'Twas the fiddle did all this!
Said the fiddle —
'Hush and hearken
To the song that I am singing,
For it is a song entrancing.
Telling now of gladness ringing,
Telling now of children dancing;
Life is music, life is glamour.'
Said the fiddle
In the middle
Of the tumult and the clamour.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandma Sang A Special
Grandma sang a special in Montgomery
In the church where her youngest preached the word
He turned the tape recorder on and caught it
And still today, my Grandma can be heard
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Grandma sang a special in Montgomery
And every time I hear that tape today
If I shut my eyes and listen to it closely
It seems like she is right here in this place
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Grandma sings her specials now in heaven
And I’m sure that all who hear her say Amen!
I look forward to the day I’ll be in heaven
And, in person, I’ll hear Grandma sing again
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And I know he holds tomorrow for me too
One day he’ll come back and take me with him
‘Cause he held a place for me in heaven too
Grandma sang “I know who holds tomorrow”
And she sang it loud for everyone to hear
Today my Grandma’s singing it for Jesus
‘Cause he held a place for her in heaven’s choir
Copyright: C R Clark -9/13/08
poem by C.R. Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Killing Me Softly (feat. Fugees)
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song
I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him, and listen for a while
And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes
(repeat chorus)
I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters, and read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish, but he just kept right on
(rpt chorus)
He sang as if he knew me, and all my dark despair
He kept on looking right through me as if I wasn't there
And then he kept on singing, singing clear and strong
(repeat chorus till fade
song performed by by Lauryn Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Remembered
She sang, and I listened the whole song thro'.
(It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
The stars were out and the moon it grew
From a wee soft glimmer way out in the blue
To a bird thro' the heavens winging.
She sang, and the song trembled down to my breast,--
(It was sweet, so sweet the singing.)
As a dove just out of its fledgling nest,
And, putting its wings to the first sweet test,
Flutters homeward so wearily winging.
She sang and I said to my heart 'That song,
That was sweet, so sweet i' the singing,
Shall live with us and inspire us long,
And thou, my heart, shalt be brave and strong
For the sake of those words a-winging.'
The woman died and the song was still.
(It was sweet, so sweet, the singing.)
But ever I hear the same low trill,
Of the song that shakes my heart with a thrill,
And goes forever winging.
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Orphan School
Full fifty merry maids I heard
One summer morn a-singing;
And each was like a joyous bird
With spring-clear not a-ringing.
It was an old-time soldier song
That held their happy voices:
Oh how it's good to swing along
When youth rejoices!
Then lo! I dreamed long years had gone,
They passed again ungladly.
Their backs were bent, their cheeks were wan,
Their eyes were staring sadly.
Their ranks were thinned by full a score
From death's remorseless reaping
Their steps were slow, they sang no more,--
Nay, some were weeping.
Dark dream! I saw my maids today
Singing so innocently;
Their eyes with happiness were gay,
They looked at me so gently.
Thought I: Be merry in your youth
With hearts unrueing:
Thank God you do not know the truth
Of Life's Undoing!
poem by Robert William Service
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Bennie The Frog
Bennie always sang in the bath tub
and his dream was to sing with a band.
At night he visited the clubs and pubs
and he travelled throughout the land.
In a pub called the Pig and Whistle
he heard music loud and clear,
but he didn’t hear anyone singing
and thought his chance was here.
When the band took a break from playing
Bennie went over to have a chat.
He asked if he could sing a song with them
and they said yes at the dropp of a hat.
They asked what song he’d be singing
when they returned on stage to play.
Bennie chose an old Rock ‘n’ Roll number,
Buddy Holly’s ‘That’ll Be The Day’.
The room soon filled up with people,
as Bennie stood in front of the band,
the pianist played the introduction
then Bennie grabbed the mic’ and sang.
There was plenty of foot-tapping and clapping
and the audience stamped on the floor.
They liked the sound of Bennie’s singing
and when he finished they shouted for more.
Bennie at last had become a singer
and his dreams had all come true,
and instead of just singing in the bath tub
he now sings to audiences too.
poem by Orlando Belo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I woke up to a lullaby
I woke up to a lullaby
The birds sang a song for me
They sang their hearts out all the while
Dancing on the maple tree
Each bird sang a different song
That melted into one
A song full of promises
For the day that’s just begun
They sang of sorrow
Of happiness and mirth
The sang of marriage
And of birth
They sang of people laughing
And of them crying
They sang of sickness
They sang of dying
This little song
They sang for me
Made me think
Made me free
In The Evening By The Moonlight
Traditional
In the evening by the moonlight
When my mother had finished working
We used to sit around the fire place
Till the cornbread it was done
And then we all would eat our supper
After that wed clean the kitchen
Its the only time they ever gave us to spare
To have a little fun
Then my daddy used to take his fiddle down
That hung upon the wall
While the silvery moon was shining clear and bright
How the folks would enjoy it
They would sit all night and listen
As we used to sing in the evening by the moonlight
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear banjos ringing
You could hear them by the moonlight
You could hear my folks all singing
How my mother she would enjoy it
She would sit all night and listen
As we sang in the evening by the moolight oh yeah
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear folks all singing
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear my folks all singing
How my mother she would enjoy it
She would sit all night and listen
As we sang in the evening by the moolight oh yeah
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear banjos ringing
In the evening by the moonlight
You could hear my folks all singing
How my mother she would enjoy it
She would sit all night and listen
As we sang in the evening by the moolight oh yeah
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Bird
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down and sang a song to me
Of how it began
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
The trout in the shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry
About my life
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Na na na na na na
Tree in my own backyard
Stands all alone
Bears fruit for me
And it tastes so good
Wheres my pretty bird
He must have flown away
If I keep singing
Hell come back someday
Dawn, birds still gone
Guess Ill go mow the lawn
What a day, what a day
Oooo, what a beautiful day this is
Ooooooooo
Little bird up in a tree
Looked down a sang a song to me
The trout in a shiny brook
Gave the worm another look
And told me not to worry about my life
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
Little bird looked down
And sang a songto me
Little bird looked down
And sang a song to me
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fiddle-Dee-Dee
There once was a bird that lived up in a tree,
And all he could whistle was "Fiddle-dee-dee" -
A very provoking, unmusical song
For one to be whistling the summer day long!
Yet always contented and busy was he
With that vocal recurrence of "Fiddle-dee-dee."
Hard by lived a brave little soldier of four,
That weird iteration repented him sore;
"I prithee, Dear-Mother-Mine! fetch me my gun,
For, by our St. Didy! the deed must be done
That shall presently rid all creation and me
Of that ominous bird and his 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
Then out came Dear-Mother-Mine, bringing her son
His awfully truculent little red gun;
The stock was of pine and the barrel of tin,
The "bang" it came out where the bullet went in -
The right kind of weapon I think you'll agree
For slaying all fowl that go "Fiddle-dee-dee"!
The brave little soldier quoth never a word,
But he up and he drew a straight bead on that bird;
And, while that vain creature provokingly sang,
The gun it went off with a terrible bang!
Then loud laughed the youth - "By my Bottle," cried he,
I've put a quietus on 'Fiddle-dee-dee'!"
Out came then Dear-Mother-Mine, saying: "My son,
Right well have you wrought with your little red gun!
Hereafter no evil at all need I fear,
With such a brave soldier as You-My-Love here!"
She kissed the dear boy.
(The bird in the tree
Continued to whistle his "Fiddle-dee-dee")
poem by Eugene Field
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The Song
I SANG of the sun on the waters,
And then of the wind in the wood;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said that the song was good.
I sang of the sheep on the mountains,
And then of the thrush on the hill;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said it was better still.
I sang of the bliss of lovers,
And then of their hopes that fall;
And the people hearkened my singing
And said it was best of all.
For the song that is loved of the people,
And sought since the world began,
Is the sad and beautiful music
Of the loves and sorrows of Man.
poem by Roderic Quinn
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Singing Bird, I was!
Bird, singing Bird, I am!
Got trapped myself,
lured by desires and
Effects of my own karma!
I found myself in cage,
Made by my own fate,
who become my master!
But when I started singing,
Praise of my lord, not caring my master,
Softer and softer became
my master's heart!
I started singing for the one who placed me here,
Slowly wiping my eyes,
With my own wings,
singing melodious songs
I was amusing my heart,
And singing became my integral part!
I sang because I saw smile on lips of both,
My master as well as my Lord,
And I sang because it pleaseth all!
Nought I couldn't do more,
Eat, sleep then awake,
Pat my back with my own wings then sit and sing!
I was trying to find way out,
Dashed against nuts and bolts of the Cage,
And broke my wings and legs!
My pain was doubled,
soar multiplied as I tried more and more to get myself free!
Master was laughing at me but he had sympathy,
He took me out and cleansed my wounds with his divine power and told me to cool down and wait and sing than try something great
and great will be the pain,
if act impatient!
I sang to Lord, O! Lord,
Thou hast ears to hear
this painful song!
Come on and free me!
I slept exhausted of weeping Lord came in dream and said,
'Child look, bother not of wing that are mortal,
Look into heart, heart has wings that never fail
Wings that are ever strong,
Even heart can sing when it fly, and even it can fly where air is not, fairies that land!
They call it heaven!
Woke up and saw my cage!
Cage that allow me not,
never it allowed me to fly!
I sat like meditating on God!
Then my mind absorbed in lord,
Body was stiff like a corpse,
Seeing that master opened the cage,
Lord appeared and said,
My child it is now or never!
Suddenly I got out and flew to my Lord, where my master, Karma and his cage have no entry!
I sang to Lord, 'O Lord, I praise you thee,
Thy will be my will!
Thy wish be my wish!
thy mighty will is done,
That saved me, thy love and
Thy mercy showed the path
Thee, is my only savior!
thy merciful hands lifted me! '
AUM, AMEN AMEEN!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Noel
I sang a song upon Christmas day
And the feet of many going one way,
The word the golden voice did say:
Gloria in Excelsis!
The air was filled with snowflakes white,
And the singing stars danced in their flight,
Sweet the song they sang in the night,
Et in terra pax!
Good singing folk, where is there peace,
And for the broken heart heartsease?
They chant: Come hither upon your knees,
Venite ad Bethlehem!
For now the Prince of Peace is born;
For the full heart and the heart forlorn
He signs His Peace upon Christmas Morn:
Adeste Fidelis!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Broken Soldier
The broken soldier sings and whistles day to dark;
He's but the remnant of a man, maimed and half-blind,
But the soul they could not harm goes singing like the lark,
Like the incarnate Joy that will not be confined.
The Lady at the Hall has given him a light task,
He works in the gardens as busy as a bee;
One hand is but a stump and his face a pitted mask;
The gay soul goes singing like a bird set free.
Whistling and singing like a linnet on wings;
The others stop to listen, leaning on the spade,
Whole men and comely, they fret at little things.
The soul of him's singing like a thrush in a glade.
Hither and thither, hopping, like Robin on the grass,
The soul in the broken man is beautiful and brave;
And while he weeds the pansies and the bright hours pass
The bird caught in the cage whistles its joyous stave.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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The Slave Singing At Midnight
Loud he sang the psalm of David!
He, a Negro and enslaved,
Sang of Israel's victory,
Sang of Zion, bright and free.
In that hour, when night is calmest,
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist,
In a voice so sweet and clear
That I could not choose but hear,
Songs of triumph, and ascriptions,
Such as reached the swart Egyptians,
When upon the Red Sea coast
Perished Pharaoh and his host.
And the voice of his devotion
Filled my soul with strange emotion;
For its tones by turns were glad,
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad.
Paul and Silas, in their prison,
Sang of Christ, the Lord arisen.
And an earthquake's arm of might
Broke their dungeon-gates at night.
But, alas! what holy angel
Brings the Slave this glad evangel?
And what earthquake's arm of might
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night?
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Angel On My Shoulder
There's an angel on my shoulder,
asking me whats wrong?
and as i speak the words to her
she starts to sing a song
This song she sings is powerfull
yet its the saddest song you'll hear.
She sings a song of pain and love,
even the angel has a tear.
She sang of how she found true love,
and how she let it go.
she sang of how she pushed aside
the only love she'd know
she sang of how she pushed him away
to find another love thats true
she sang of how she looked at him
as he spoke the words 'thats you'
She never faulted in her words
as she sang and as she cried
for as she sang she told me
of how her true love died
She said he died of a broken heart
that only she could mend
her true love died because of her
his true love and friend
as the angel sang her final words
she looked at me and said
Kolee this is not my song
but your true loves instead
There's an angel on my shoulder
asking me whats wrong
asking me to love you,
and to never hear your song.
poem by Angel of Darkness
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A Happy Song
I have a cousin named Emily,
Whose dark hair is so long
And her big brown eyes are happy,
Singing a happy song.
Yes, a happy song,
Which isn't sang with words,
They're hums and tunes and melodies
Of thousands of singing birds.
The happy song can not be stopped,
Even when it hurts,
The happy song can not be stopped,
'Cuz that's when it exerts.
The happy song can never be lost,
Nothing can tear it apart,
There's only one place you can keep it,
That place is in your heart.
poem by Linda Claire
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A Musical Note
Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay lee.
Liddle lie, liddle lie, liddle lie lay low.
These are the words that were sent to me
in a letter from my brother-in-law-Joe.
He said as the cock-crowed last Tuesday morning
he heard singing coming from down his garden.
Surprised and not believing what he was hearing
he went to see where the sound was coming from.
As he casually walked to the bottom of the garden
the singing became louder with his every stride.
He slowly parted the branches of the hedgerow
and saw a toad and mouse sitting side by side.
The toad sat cross-legged on a spotted toadstool
playing a mandolin and singing out loud.
The mouse was clapping in time to the music,
as were other animals that made up the crowd.
All the creatures joined in with the chorus
as they clapped and stamped their feet,
but then a mandolin string snapped and twanged,
which caused the toad to fall off his seat.
The audience stopped singing and fell about laughing,
as the toad got up from the ground,
he explained that the performance was now over
unless a new string could quickly be found.
With pain the mouse pulled out one of its whiskers
and asked the toad if it would be alright.
The musical toad smiled and said it would be perfect,
and adjusted the whisker to sound just right.
Once more the toad began playing and singing
to the happy hand clapping crowd.
Until a huge tabby tomcat called Thomas,
frightened everyone with its ‘meow’!
poem by Orlando Belo
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